The Chair
by The Fanciful Fangirl
Summary: From the seat of Imperial power, Luke watches his father end the Emperor's life a little differently. A short father-son story. Slightly AU, ROTJ one-shot, inspired by a behind the scenes picture of Luke sitting in contemplation on the Emperor's throne.


The chair was softer than he had imagined, though in retrospect it had been made for the Emperor and from the looks of his now cooling corpse the man had to be pushing 100. Luke felt oddly detached from the scene unfolding in front of him.

It had taken several minutes after the lighting had stopped for his senses to fully come back and the mental fog to clear. But when it did, he saw his father, still missing the hand Luke had severed, kneeling over him. The Emperor's prone form lay a few feet away. Though Luke could barely speak, his father supplied the answers to the questions that made their way easily across their now strengthened Force bond.

"I had the guards call for the medics. They will be here shortly. They are the Emperor's personal staff and are used to seeing the after-effects of his punishment."

Vader gestured with his now handless limb. Luke cleared his throat and tried, "Me?"

His voice came out like it had when he was just coming into his teenage years on Tatooine. Those times felt like eons ago. His father placed a strong, secure hand on his shoulder.

"You were offered a place in the Empire and you took it after some convincing." The look of confusion that passed across Luke's caused his father to continue.

"It is not unusual for the Emperor to use very serious means to bring new followers into his service. You were appointed to the Inquisitorious, a group of dark side adepts I had some leadership over back before the first Death Star. This puts you directly under my direction and my protection." Vader explained. Luke nodded weakly and pushed himself to a sitting position. His father helped him stand and led him to the Emperor's now empty chair that stood looking out at the battle that still raged.

Luke chanced speaking again, "Aren't they going to arrest us because of..." He gestured to the body of the Emperor. Luke hadn't been very aware, due to the after-effects of the lightning the old tyrant had been pumping into his body, but he had made out the shape of Vader holding his arm aloft and squeezing midair with the Force. A chokehold, he had assumed through the haze. Surely the Imperials would make the connection if they found their dead ruler with a broken neck next to his second in command, who was known for such acts.

"Our poor Emperor was an old man with an old heart, my son." Luke knew his father's mask couldn't make faces but Luke was sure there was a knowing and half smiling look on the face of the man who had once been Anakin Skywalker.

"Old hearts often give out if met with stress such as a battle. The _pressure_ was simply too much." Luke nodded and tried to hide the smile that crept onto his lips. He pushed it away fully as the medics and the guards entered. He allowed his father to direct them and simply sunk himself into the softness of the chair. He put his hands together in contemplation as he watched the faces of the medics. One looked a bit horrified, another passive, the last, who was speaking to his father, looked almost pleased.

Soon the pleased medic and his father made their way over to him. The medic bowed his head slightly before addressing Luke, "How are you feeling Sir?" For some reason, Luke felt no pang in his chest when this man, this Imperial, addressed him as such. Vader spoke before he had the chance to formulate a response.

"He was treated to our late Emperor's... traditional form of convincing." The man nodded knowingly, looked over Luke, asked him a few questions, and then gave him a quick stim shot. The man assured Luke that he would be fine in a few hours and went to return to his colleagues and the guards who were putting the Emperor's body on a stretcher.

Luke looked over the scene with his father by his side.

"What happens now?" Luke asked.

"We get off this blasted contraption and let your rebel friends blast it out of the sky."

"You'll let Leia destroy the station?" Luke had nearly forgotten about the mission unfolding on the moon beneath their feet.

Vader was silent for a moment before continuing, "Your sister's rebel ways will work in our favor today in destroying this monstrosity. There is no need for such measures in our Empire now."

"Our?" Luke questioned in an amused voice.

"I was the Emperor's second in command and his successor. Now you are mine." Luke felt pride and a deeply protective feeling come from his father through their bond in the Force. He nodded and stood on only slightly slaking legs. Vader steadied him with a firm hold.

"Well if we can get Leia to come around, I suggest we leave the politics up to her."

Something that Luke interpreted as a laugh came from his father.

"I would expect nothing less from your mother's daughter."

In that moment, at the mention of his mother, Luke felt all the questions he had wondered his whole life shoot to the surface of his consciousness. But he felt the Force screaming for them to leave the station immediately. He knew with utmost certainty that there would be plenty of time for answers later.

Father and son made their way back to the elevator shaft up which they had come. With a dark little smile crossing his lips, Luke realized that he had come up a prisoner and was going down a prince.


End file.
